Fate's Game: Snippets
by jokerwho
Summary: One-shot stories that take place after the events of Fate's Game.
1. Chapter 1

**Fate's Game: Snippets**

The Doctor was nervous. He had never felt so anxious before. The last time he felt this way was when he tried looking for a job at Cambridge and maybe some other situations far too insignificant to remember but meeting Clara's family was a completely different thing.

He had every right to be nervous – he was over twenty years older than Clara, probably the same age as her father or maybe the Doctor was a few years younger but, it didn't matter. He was still old. Aside from that, John was clearly a socially awkward man. How was he supposed to have a decent conversation with her family when he was sure he was going to act like a fish out of water?

Clara had told her family about the Doctor and her grandmother was the first to react, hugging her and happy that her granddaughter had finally found someone. Her father on the other hand, was a little skeptical. When she had told Dave Oswald she was being courted by a professor, he was thrilled. However, when he found out about John Smith's age, his face fell. Dave tried to hide it but Clara could see it in her father's eyes clearly. She assured him that she loved the Doctor and didn't care about his age and informed him they will get to meet each other in the near future.

Now, Clara and the Doctor were on their way to Blackpool.

John was lost in his thoughts, looking at the countryside the train was passing by before he felt a hand grasp his. He glanced at the person next to him, granting her a smile. He knew Clara could probably tell what was going on in his head.

"Doctor, there is no need for you be nervous. You're just meeting my family," she reasoned, squeezing his hand.

"And that's exactly the reason why I'm nervous," he replied, biting his thumb before Clara swatted his hand.

"If it makes you feel any better, my nan was over the moon when I told her I was in a relationship."

"Thank you, Clara, you've told me that before," the Doctor said and regretted it almost immediately when he saw how upset she looked. "Sorry… I… this isn't something I've ever done before."

She couldn't blame him for feeling the way he felt. A large part of his life was spent with numbers and equations and he barely interacted with anyone outside his short list of friends and not to mention, students.

"It's alright, Doctor. Just be your self and everything will be fine."

The couple arrived in Blackpool an hour later and took a carriage to Clara's home. The journey lasted for about 10 minutes before it came to a halt in front of a two-story house.

"Are you ready?" Clara asked and the Doctor merely nodded as a response.

They looked out the window before he stepped out of the carriage, holding out his hand for her to grasp onto when she hopped out.

She then noticed that the Doctor's tie was crooked to the side. "Your tie isn't straight," she murmured and straightened it.

"Thank you."

The coupled walked up the steps and stood in front of the door before Clara wrapped one arm around the Doctor's and was about to knock when suddenly, he spoke. "I think I left something in -"

The warning look she gave him made him stop talking. "Never mind," he uttered before she knocked on the door.

It swung open a few seconds later and they were face to face with Clara's step-mother, Linda. "Oh, you're here. I will go get Dave – come in," she said in a neutral tone.

The Doctor could see the loathing expression Clara and her step-mother exchanged. She wasn't kidding when she said she didn't get along well with her father's wife.

"Clara…" John said as they stepped inside.

"I'm fine," she said quickly and changed the subject. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The house itself wasn't small, but not big either. It seemed large enough for a family of three.

"Where is my lovely granddaughter and the gentleman who has managed to capture her heart?" the couple heard a woman say as they walked into the living room.

Clara turned around and beamed at her grandmother who emerged from the hallway. "Nan!" she chimed and hugged her.

"And this must be the Doctor," she said after they had parted. "Clara has been raving about you non-stop when she came home just two months ago."

John blushed before he kissed her hand. "Thank you and it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Right, why don't you two have a seat while I check on the food," Clara's grandmother said and winked at Clara.

The Doctor took a seat next to Clara on the sofa. "See, it's not that bad. Nan loves you already."

He granted a shy smile and nodded before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Dave Oswald emerged and the couple immediately rose from the sofa.

"Clara," her father said with a smile as she hugged him.

"Dad," she uttered once they parted. "This is the Doctor. Doctor, this is my father."

Dave's smile faded as his facial expression became neutral.

"I'm John Smith," John said as he shook hands with her father.

"Dave Oswald."

The Doctor could feel the awkwardness in the air and he was sure everyone else could too. It was made even worse when Linda joined in but they were saved by Clara's grandmother.

She held a plate of a whole chicken in her hand as she set in on the table. "Who's hungry?" she asked, oblivious of the awkward silence in the air.

Lunch was what John would describe as casual, making small talk about Clara's work, her current accommodation, London and finally, the Doctor.

"Clara tells me you work as a professor at Cambridge," Dave said, cutting a slice of chicken. "What is it like?"

John felt Clara place a hand on this knee and he coughed, taking a quick glance at her. "Well, my work consists of research and giving lectures about certain topics in Mathematics, ranging from Vector Spaces to Vector Calculus to algebraic logic."

Dave cocked an eyebrow. "Algebraic logic? I'm not familiar with that term."

"Algebraic logic has a number of subtopics but I specialise in two-element Boolean algebra. It involves two values, zero and one. Using those two values, we can add or multiply them and since the operation is binary, the outcome will always be either zero or one, depending on the arithmetic. One usually represents true and zero, false. I think the system would work great on machines."

Once the Doctor had finished his explanation, everyone stared at him in awe and Clara couldn't help but look down as she bit her lower lip, trying not to grin. Pride was evident on her face. John on the other hand, looked puzzled.

"Well," Clara's grandmother was the first one to speak. "I have a feeling my great-grandchild will be a genius if this is the sort of thing the Doctor works with."

At the mention of having a child, John nearly choked on his food before reaching over for a glass of water to clear his throat. Clara was just as shocked, eyes wide, staring at her grandmother.

"Nan!" she hissed.

Her grandmother merely huffed. "What? Nobody is getting any younger and I've always wanted a great-grandchild."

John exchanged looks with Clara before he stared at his plate of food. The idea of marrying Clara had already popped into his mind but children, it hadn't crossed his mind until today.

"So, Dad, how was your trip to Leeds last week?" Clara asked, changing the subject, gently patting the Doctor's thigh.

With lunch over and the women busy clearing the table, a one to one chat with Dave Oswald was inevitable.

"Clara told me that she met you in London."

"Yes, we bumped into each other at the train station and met again during dinner at my friend's home."

"Lord Lethbridge-Stewart, you mean," Dave queried even though he knew the answer.

"Yes," John answered and hoped the whole ordeal would be over soon.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Clara's grandmother was busy raving about the Doctor.

"I can see why you fell for him, Clara, dear," she said, washing a dish before handing it over to her granddaughter. "He's such a handsome man, wouldn't you agree, Linda?"

"Yes," Linda said in an automated tone, putting away the silverware.

"And not to mention intelligent. What a perfect combination," she sighed dreamily.

"Nan, don't speak too loud. He'll hear you," Clara giggled.

At around half past four, the couple decided to leave so they could catch their train back to London. Clara said her goodbyes to her family and left with the Doctor. They reached the station just in time and boarded the service to King's Cross.

John was unusually quite as they sat next to each other so she decided to speak. "It wasn't as bad as you thought it was, am I right, Doctor?"

He finally cracked a smile, reaching for her hand and kissing it. "No, it wasn't that bad at all," he replied, remembering the conversation he had with her father.

" _Look, Doctor, I love Clara so very much. She is my only daughter, my only child and the last thing I want to see is her getting hurt," Dave explained. "But, if there is one thing I'm sure of now, it is that you wouldn't hurt her, not after what I saw today."_

 _The Doctor nodded and said nothing, waiting for him to continue._

" _I thought you were just an old man trying to take advantage of a young woman and you have proven me wrong today and I apologise for thinking that way," he continued. Dave glanced at the kitchen, he could hear their muffled voices. "I know that you have been courting her for sometime now and ready to be committed."_

" _Mr Oswald-"_

" _No, let me finish. Clara loves you and I hope you will love her more. I want to see her happy and so, you have my blessing."_

" _Thank you," the Doctor said, beaming for the first time since he arrived at Blackpool._

"I certainly had a wonderful time meeting your family," he murmured as the couple beamed at each other.

Since I will not be able to post multi-chapter stories on a regular basis starting from October until June or July of next year (relies greatly on how jet-lagged I am), I've decided to write a multi-chapter story that consists of one-shots that take place after the ending of Fate's Game. I can't promise I will be able to post updates regularly but I will try to write one chapter each month since I do have other Whouffaldi one-shots in mind. I hope you will have a wonderful time reading this series.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dudley?"

"No!"

"Oliver?"

"No."

"What about Christopher?"

"Clara, we are not naming our baby Christopher."

"Alright, how does Thomas sound?"

"Thomas Oswald-Smith sounds terrible."

"Ok, that does sound bad…. Otto?"

"God, no!"

"I'm running out of names here – Rodney?"

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow before closing the book, Macbeth, he was reading and placed it on the night stand. "N-O. No."

His wife let out a frustrated sigh. The couple were cuddled together in bed and what started out as nothing more than relaxation turned into a discussion. "Well, what do you have in mind then?"

He merely shrugged as naming their baby was something he thought would be up for discussion in a few months but no, Clara insisted on finding a good name that very night. "I was thinking that if the baby is a girl, we could name her Cynthia?"

Clara snorted at his suggestion, causing her husband to purse his lips in annoyance. "Your suggestion is as bad as mine."

"Carol?"

"Reminds me of Christmas. No."

"Lauren."

"It sounds like a boring name."

"Alice."

"Please, no. She might end up falling into a hole that leads to Wonderland," her terrible joke had caused the Doctor to laugh, regardless.

"This is a lot more difficult than I imagined," he admitted, staring at his wife's ever growing bump. "Rosetta?" he suggested and received a look that was clearly a no go.

"Angela? And this is my last suggestion. I don't think I can think of any other names now."

"Doesn't sound like a suitable name," Clara reasoned and snuggled deeper into her husband's embrace as he reached for his book.

"I'm sure we will think of something soon," the Doctor assured his wife and kissed her head before paying attention back to Macbeth.

"What was your mother's name?" his wife asked after a few moments of silence.

"Clarice," he murmured softly. "I suppose that is a good name if the baby is a girl. Clarice Oswald-Smith."

"So that settles it, then. We have a name for a girl. What if the baby is a boy?"

The Doctor closed his book for the second time that night and let it rest on the bed before taking his glasses off. He pondered for a few seconds. "Wolfgang?" he said, half-joking.

Clara gave him a look that could only be described as unbelievable. "I am not about to call our son Wolfgang. Just imagine if I ask him to come inside the house screaming 'Wolfgang, dinner is ready!'" she giggled.

"Why are we even finding a name for the baby right now? I mean, you are almost six months into your pregnancy. We still have plenty of time."

She gave him her best pleading eyes, the ones where he had told her many times that they inflate. "I don't see why we can't have this discussion right now, Doctor."

"Yes, boss," he uttered, a smile playing on his lips. He tried thinking up a name that didn't sound bad. "Peter?"

"Peter… as much as I like that name, I don't think it will suit the baby," his wife said and sighed. "It's fine. You're right. I'm sure we will eventually come up with one."

"If you say so," he replied and resumed reading Macbeth.

The silent moment was shattered when the Doctor heard Clara let out a gasp. One that made him abandon all thoughts except for his wife and unborn child. "Clara?!"

A look of concern washed over his face. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked.

The past few months had been a rollercoaster ride for the couple from Clara's morning sickness to her waking him up in the middle of the night asking him to her a snack to her unpredictable mood swings. She became more of a control freak ever since she got pregnant, not that the Doctor hated it but it ended up getting the best of him on some occasions but for the most part, he was elated that he was going to be a father and how much more gorgeous his wife looked.

"The baby," Clara said, placing a hand on her swollen belly. "I felt it kick."

Her husband's eyes widened. This was the first time the baby ever moved and he wasn't sure what to do. "Well, can you still feel it?" he asked, afraid to touch her as if it would ruin everything.

She shook her head. "No, not anymore," she said disappointedly. "Maybe you should try."

Clara grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly. The Doctor waited for a few moments before he felt the kick. A grin appeared on his face.

"I can feel the baby kicking!" he piped. "This is wonderful."

"It is," his wife murmured as he gave her a peck on the lips. "I guess the baby just wanted us to figure out a name once and for all."

The Doctor leaned back against the headboard of the bed, beaming. He couldn't help but feel happy over such a small thing. He looked down at the Macbeth book he was reading earlier.

"Malcolm," he uttered, almost in a whisper.

His wife raised her brows. "What? I didn't catch that."

"Malcolm. Malcolm Oswald-Smith," he murmured, holding up the book.

She understood what her husband meant and pondered, caressing the bump. "I do like that name."

"I was reading the part where Malcolm was assembling an army when you felt the kick," her husband explained.

Clara smiled at him. "Malcolm it is then."

Three months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy who couldn't wait to come into the world as he was delivered a week earlier than expected. The baby was named 'Malcolm David Oswald-Smith'.

* * *

I ended up choosing Malcolm as a tribute to Malcolm Tucker ;)

Oh yes, spot the easter eggs :D


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor was sure it was around midnight when he was abruptly woken up by his wailing son and he had counted that it was probably the second time he had been woken up that night. He rolled over and cracked one eye open. Clara was fast asleep, the crying didn't seem to disrupt her. Then again, he couldn't really blame her as she was probably exhausted.

Slowly, the Doctor drew away the covers and climbed out of bed, walking towards the cot.

"I'll be up in just a minute," his wife uttered tiredly.

"That's fine. Just go back to sleep, Clara. I can take care of it."

He then gave his full attention on his crying son.

"It's alright, Malcolm. I'm here," he murmured sleepily and caressed his Malcolm's head in an attempt to calm him down but it did not improve the baby's mood.

The Doctor glanced at his wife and decided to take his son outside so she can sleep peacefully. Reaching for his son in the cot, he carried him out of the room.

"There, there," he soothed, patting the baby's back, figuring out what to do so that Malcolm would stop crying. John then made a decision to take his son to his study. "Why don't we go to my study, yeah? Maybe some boring Maths diagram will lull you to sleep."

Treading down the stairs carefully, the Doctor took Malcolm to his study where there were books and papers scattered on the desk. He sat in his comfy leather chair before showing his son his work.

"Right, so here were are in the study," John said, looking for something interesting to show to the baby. He reached for a piece of paper that had a graph of sine drawn on it.

Malcolm's crying slowly died down when his father showed him the graph. His inquisitive brown eyes stared at the paper in amazement, surprising the Doctor. He had thought it wouldn't work but it did.

"See how the graph has a positive value from zero to pi and then negative from pi to two-pi and it just periodically repeats itself?"

John smiled when he saw that Malcolm still had his eyes glued to the graph. He then grabbed another piece of paper that had the cosine graph drawn. "And this is what cosine looks like – see how it just falls down to minus one in the middle?"

His son gurgled happily when he got a closer look.

"But, the tangent is my favourite and would you like to know why?" he said, searching through the papers for another graph. "Tangent goes between positive and negative infinity," he then showed him the graph and Malcolm gurgled happily once more before he let out a yawn.

"Someone is getting tired," the Doctor commented and beamed at his son. "Right, one more graph and we can go back upstairs," he murmured searching through the pile of papers.

Unknown to both him and Malcolm, Clara was watching the whole ordeal silently from the entrance, unable to stop herself from smiling. She had thought nothing in the world looked more adorable than her husband and son bonding over Maths at midnight.

"Here's one that I've been working on recently – it's called a Venn diagram," he explained, showing the boy a diagram that consisted of two circles intersecting one another.

Malcolm snuggled into his father's arms, eyes drooping but never looking anywhere else but the paper John held. Eventually, he fell sleep.

The Doctor kissed his son's head before slowly rising from his chair. He nearly jumped when he heard his wife speak.

"I never knew you possessed such amazing dad skills."

"Clara," he whispered, surprised by her presence. "… How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," she replied, winking at him. "I can take Malcolm upstairs."

Her husband shook his head. "I can do it and I recalled telling you to rest. You need it."

"We both need it but, for Malcolm, I don't mind losing sleep," she reasoned, beaming.

The Doctor glanced at the grandfather clock. It was now half past midnight. "Let's go to bed," he then handed the sleeping baby over to Clara before shutting the door to the study, tailing behind her soon after.

Once the baby was settled in his cot, covered by a warm blanket, his parents went back to bed for they needed sleep, especially his father who had to go to work the next morning.

John slid under the covers, waiting for his wife to join him as she was kissing her son's temple.

"Good night, Malcolm," she whispered and joined her husband. "Thank you for taking care of him," she said and kissed the Doctor's cheek.

"Always happy to help," he murmured, draping one arm over her as she spooned against him.

The couple eventually fell into slumber but it only lasted for a solid four hours before they were woken up again and this time, Malcolm demanded attention from his mother for he was hungry.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed reading this short Saturday fluff.


	4. Chapter 4

The most prominent thing about London is that it was always busy, especially during daytime. It didn't matter what day it was. It could be a Monday, Tuesday or even Sunday and the streets would still be crowded.

And Missy hated London for that fact alone but, her work forced her to travel to the city as a client had requested to meet her.

Here she was now, walking along the streets, a scowl on her face as she passed random people, heading to the restaurant her client had specified.

With the meeting over an hour and a half later, Missy stepped out and bumped into a small boy no older than five years old.

He looked terrified, slightly out of breath, as if he had been running.

"S-Sorry, ma'am," the boy muttered, eyes searching around the area frantically.

Missy pursed her lips as she took a good look at the boy. There was something about him that was familiar. Maybe it was the hair or nose or even eyebrows. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

The young boy looked as if he was on the verge of crying.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a bored tone.

The boy looked at her, eyes still full of panic, but he nodded. "Yes, I cannot find my father."

"Where did you last see him?" Missy questioned, her Scottish accent getting thicker, she becoming slightly agitated by the increasing number of people in the area.

"We were at the bookshop just down the corner and he was looking at some books when I saw a cat and chased… after it," the boy said guiltily, eyes on the ground, hands behind his back.

There was indeed something familiar about the boy.

Missy sighed. Something told her the least she could do was being less scary. She might as well do some good in her life.

"Alright. Let's go find your father," she said. "What's your name?"

His parents had told him that he shouldn't be talking and let alone trust strangers but something at the back of his mind told him the woman had no intention of hurting him. Sure, she looked slightly annoyed and terrifying but he had been frantically looking for his father and mother and couldn't find them both. Malcolm decided to trust his instincts.

They began walking in the direction of the bookshop.

"My name is Malcolm."

"You shouldn't have run off like that, Malcolm. It's dangerous."

Malcolm nodded. "I know, I… I got bored since Daddy was taking so long."

"You don't share his passion for books, then?" she questioned, racking her brain to remember if she ever met someone like Malcolm.

He looked up at Missy. "I do. We both love Mathematics and he told me we could go to the toy shop afterwards but he was taking such a long time."

At the mention of Mathematics, Missy stopped dead in her tracks. She furrowed at her brows at the child. "Maths you say?"

"Yes, ma'am… Is… Did I say something wrong?" Malcolm asked nervously.

She shook her head, her mood improving. "No, I was just reminded of someone."

She stared at the boy as they resumed walking to the bookshop. There was no doubt that the boy was John Smith's son. He was the spitting image of his father. It made sense why she had thought the boy looked so familiar. Why else would he be interested in Mathematics if not thanks to the Doctor.

Once they reached the bookshop, Missy nodded. "Well, here we are. Maybe your father's inside?"

Malcolm ran inside, searching for the Doctor but a few minutes later, he got out, a sad look on his face. "He's not here."

Missy blew out air through her lips. The things she'd do for certain people. "Well, stay here. Maybe he'll be back soon. I'll look around for him," she muttered.

"How do you know what my father looks like?" Malcolm asked, confused.

She didn't think that through it would seem. "Easy. If I see an idiot running around, looking frantically for his son, then I'll know it's him."

The boy giggled. "My Mummy calls him that, too whenever she's mad at him."

"Yeah. Ok. Stay here," she said and entered the shop on the other side of the street.

Malcolm stood in front of the window pane of the shop when he heard someone call his name.

"Malcolm!"

The boy's face instantly lit up as he saw his father walking at a fast pace towards him. The boy ran to the Doctor and jumped into his arms. "Dad!"

"I've been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" he asked, caressing the boy's hair as he held him with one arm.

Malcolm shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"Don't ever run off like that ever again," the Doctor said sternly. "Please don't scare me like that."

His son merely nodded at his father. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

John sighed, glad that his son was safe and sound. He was debating whether he should tell Clara what had happened, knowing well she would kill him. "It's fine. How long have you been waiting here?"

"How long have you been waiting here?" a voice from behind repeated.

The Doctor gulped. He was dead meat. He spun around. "Clara!" he chimed, making sure to put more emphasis when pronouncing the 'r' as it would usually have a effect on her but this time, it did not work as she merely glared at him.

"You lost him didn't you?" she asked tightly.

John looked down at the floor, Malcolm still in his arms. "Yes," he said quickly.

"It wasn't Daddy's fault, Mummy. I ran off on my own," their son interjected.

"Yes, clearly, both of you are at fault. You," Clara said as she pointed her finger at the Doctor. "For not keeping an eye on him and you, young man, for running off."

Her two boys stared at her before her face relaxed a bit. "At least you've found him, Doctor."

Clara then placed a hand on her son's cheek. "Are you alright, Malcolm?"

"Yes, Mummy, I'm fine. A nice woman helped me."

The Doctor and his wife exchanged looks.

"Who, exactly?" he asked.

Malcolm saw Missy standing in front of the entrance to the store she had entered earlier and he smiled before pointing his finger at her. "There! The woman in the shop!"

His parents turned around but they saw no one in the shop he had pointed out.

"I think it's best if we return to the hotel. You must be tired, Malcolm," the Doctor suggested, feeling a bit cautious.

"But there was a woman who helped me! She has a Scottish accent!"

Clara and her husband exchanged looks once again.

John handed Malcolm to Clara before he looked around the streets quickly.

"Doctor, I think we should just go," his wife reasoned.

He sighed and nodded. "I suppose you're right," he then grabbed his son from his wife. "You don't think it was-"

"I have a feeling it was her," she replied, a mixture of relief and confusion on her face. "At least she was kind enough to help."

Their son stayed silent, unable to comprehend the conversation they were having.

As they were walking back to the hotel, Malcolm glanced back and saw the woman. She stood in the centre, a small smile playing on her lips.

The boy smiled back before 'the woman in the shop' disappeared into the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning air was crisp and cold as it blew away the leaves on the pavement, causing them to whirl around before settling back down to the ground gently and quietly. Summer had ended and autumn came with a chilly yet sunny weather. The day seemed promising as the sun was slowly rising, bringing warmth and sunlight.

When Clara woke up, she noticed that something was odd. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but her instinct told her something was off that morning. She rolled over and discovered the issue. Her husband was still dozing off. On a Thursday.

"Doctor," she whispered as she nudged his shoulder. "Wake up, you're going to be late for work."

The only response she got from him was a groan before he pulled the covers over his head. "Just give me a few more minutes," he said, voice hoarse from sleep before he sneezed.

"Bless you."

Clara didn't need any further confirmation from him to figure out what was wrong. After being married to him for six years, she knew why he wasn't himself.

Her husband has a cold it would seem.

Quickly, she climbed out of bed and put on her robe before kissing the Doctor's fluffy silver curls. "Stay in bed and don't you dare try to get ready for work."

Another groan was heard coming from her husband as he rolled over and slept on his stomach.

Clara deduced that he caught a cold the previous day. He had taken their son to the market to buy him a new toy and it had been raining. By the time her boys returned home, they were soaked to the bone but all smiles. It was a clear indication that they had been playing in the rain.

That would also mean Malcolm was sick too.

She heard a knock coming from the door and it slowly swung open before she was greeted by the sight of her son, face red, rubbing his eye with one hand and the other holding a stuffed lion.

"Mummy," he whimpered as she scooped him up in her arms.

"Yes, Malcolm, mummy's here," she said softly to him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Clara caressed his head and kissed his cheek. "Your father is not well too. Lie down next to him. I'll make some soup."

She was going to give them a good lecture once they were feeling better.

Malcolm merely nodded in silence before he crawled on the bed and lied down next to his father.

"You're sick too?" the Doctor asked his son, eyes half opened. He placed a hand on the boy's head and caressed his hair when he heard his son sniff. "It's alright, it will pass."

"I don't like being sick, Daddy," Malcolm said as he was on the verge of crying, clutching the stuffed animal tighter to his chest.

John sat up against the headboard of the bed, despite the protest from his body. "It's a part of being human, Malcolm," he murmured and covered his son with the duvet. "I promise you that by the end of the day, if you rest, you will feel better."

He climbed out of bed and decided to get ready for work. He was sure the students wouldn't mind him being tardy for once.

"Where are you going, Daddy?"

"I have an important lecture and faculty meeting today so-"

"If you try to dress to go to work, I will tie you up, Doctor!" Clara yelled from downstairs, causing Malcolm to giggle.

He could only make his way halfway through to the bathroom before he heard her warning. "What a control freak," he muttered under his breath before sliding under the covers.

Suddenly, the Doctor sneezed.

"Bless you."

Both father and son were confined to spending their time in bed, as Clara had insisted them to rest rather than tiring themselves out even more.

While her husband agreed that their son needed all the rest he could get, he justified that he was a grown man and could manage himself.

"Clara, you can't expect me to simply do nothing in bed all day," the Doctor complained, keeping his voice low as Malcolm slept soundly next to him.

His wife glared at him as she collected his empty bowl of soup. "You have a cold, Doctor and it is getting worse by the sound of it," she whispered in hushed tones.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. Can you at least get me my notes from the study? It's on the desk. I might as well do something."

She smiled at him in triumph. "Gladly, but please, take a nap at some point."

"Yes, ma'am."

Clara returned to the bedroom two hours later to check up on the two and when she slowly opened the door, she couldn't help but beam at the sight that greeted her.

The Doctor was fast asleep, his head propped up with two pillows. One hand grasped the Maths notes he had asked her to get him earlier in the morning, reading glasses still on and the other was stretched out on her side of the bed but what made her heart melt was the image of Malcolm sleeping, with his head resting on his father's stomach.

To Clara, it was a beautiful sight.

She shut the door silently, unable to stop herself from grinning from ear to ear.

By late noon, she prepared their supper and carried the food to the master bedroom where she could hear her two boys chattering. Sometimes, she wondered if they were both human to begin with. The Doctor and Malcolm were too intelligent and energetic for their own good.

"Isn't it easier to use partial fractions to solve it, Daddy?"

"Well, no, I'm sure it's going to get messy and horrendous by the time you expand the denominators. I'd just use the equations provided."

"I see that the both of you are feeling a lot better compared to this morning," Clara commented as she entered the bedroom with the tray of food.

"We are very fortunate to have a kind and loving woman to nurse us back to health," Malcolm said before he turned to the Doctor. "Did I say that right?"

"Yes, you did," he replied with a grin, kissing his son's head, the boy's curly hair tickling his face.

She set the tray on the nightstand, next to the Doctor. "Are you two trying to charm your way out from being lectured."

The two innocently exchanged looks before saying, "No."

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind getting lectured, then."

At times like these, Clara thought it was too easy with the two. Her husband and their son groaned in defeat.

She straightened her back. "But first thing's first. Supper."

As the two were finishing their meal, Malcolm whispered to his father, "Daddy, what now?"

John had been racking his brain for a plan to avoid the inevitable but nothing came to mind. "I suppose the only thing we can do is go with it."

"But Mummy always says the same thing – 'You're not allowed to play in the rain. You will catch a cold or slip and hurt yourself'."

"'There is always a place and time for everything'," the Doctor finished and both giggled.

"I see you've learned your lesson then," Clara said as she casually entered the bedroom, startling the two.

"Clara… how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," she replied, a playful look in her eyes.

The Doctor felt Malcolm tug the sleeve of his nightshirt. "Are we still in trouble?"

Clara let out a giggle at her son's question. How could she be cross with them? She walked around the bed and sat next to him. "No, Malcolm, you and your father," she said and eyed John. "… are not in trouble but do remember not to play in the rain next time."

"Yes, ma'am," her two boys replied in unison.

"Good."

Eventually, night time came and after tucking Malcolm into bed, Clara returned to the master bedroom to find her husband in bed, working on his notes.

"Do you ever take a break?" she murmured as she slipped under the covers.

"I do, actually, when you're not watching," he replied jokingly, taking off his glasses and placing them on the night stand, along with the notes.

"I'm watching you right now."

"That is because I have something else in mind."

Clara bit her lip, trying her best not to smile but she was doing a rubbish job judging by the look her husband was giving her. "You daft man!" she giggled when he wiggled his attack eyebrows before snaking his arm around her waist.

Suddenly, she sneezed.

"Bless you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Halloween Special**

The Doctor and his wife, Clara Oswald-Smith had been told by many that the presence of children in their lives would bring them joy and indeed, they were blessed wit the birth of their son, Malcolm.

Not only had he brought happiness as a new addition to the family, but he had changed his parents, especially his socially-awkward father, for the better.

Of course, being an only child meant that he had his parents' complete and full attention.

The night before Halloween was no exception.

It had all started when Malcolm was sleeping peacefully in his room. The six year old had gone to bed early after spending the entire evening with his mother, playing and walking around at a park. By the time dinner was ready, he was on the verge of falling asleep at the dinner table but fought the drowsiness, wanting to spend time with his father.

The boy slept like a rock as a soon as his head hit the pillow, surprising his mother who had expected him to request her to tell him a 'scary' bedtime story.

However, Malcolm was woken up at around midnight by a strange, yet comforting sound coming from the window. He opened his large brown eyes and squinted at the window before the wheezing sound stopped.

Being the curious boy that he was, he threw away the warm covers and raced to the window and stood on his toes to find the source of the noise. All he could see was a big blue box outside, in front of his house.

Malcolm furrowed his brows. He never saw a big blue box before he went to bed. How did it get there?

It was then one of the doors opened and a familiar figure stepped out.

The boy immediately left his room and raced down the stairs.

"Sorry about the bumpy ride but I do believe the TARDIS has crossed to another dimension by accident," apologised the Doctor as he looked around the deserted area. Most people were probably sleeping.

"That's never happened before, has it?" Clara asked as she stepped out and shut the door. It was then cold air blew into her face, causing her to shiver. "It's freezing here! Where are we?"

The Doctor popped a finger into his mouth before raising his hand high up in the air. "19th century. Late 19th century England. Cambridge, to be precise."

"So, is there anything alternate about this world? You said we were in another dimension."

He shrugged. "It depends. It might as well be very similar to our own, just that certain events didn't occur. The question is," he said, placing a hand on the TARDIS, "why did she bring us here?"

As if on cue, he felt something or someone tug his coat. He looked down and saw a boy with familiar big brown eyes, dressed in warm clothes, looking at him. "Daddy, what are you and Mummy doing out here?"

Clara's eyes widened in shock. "I'm sorry," she said and knelt to Malcolm's height. "What did you say?"

Malcolm, thinking the two were his parents, repeated his question curiously. "Why are you outside and what is that big blue box? Is it the one from the man who lives on the clouds?"

The Doctor and Clara exchanged looks before he pulled out his Sonic glasses and scanned the child. The six year old became even more curious when he saw the device.

"Why are you wearing those at night, Daddy?"

"What's your name," Clara asked softly, taking a good look at the boy. No doubt, he looks a lot like the Doctor, especially the hair and eyebrows and he definitely has her eyes.

The child blinked in confusion and looked at the Doctor as he took off his Sonic glasses before glancing at his mother. It was at that moment Malcolm realized his 'parents' were dressed in strange attires. "What's going on?"

"You're dreaming," the Doctor said calmly. "This is all a dream."

"This doesn't look like a dream," Malcolm replied.

"How do you know it's not a dream?"

"I checked before I left the house. I read your Maths notes and they weren't gibberish."

The Doctor couldn't help but smirk. The boy seems to have his mind. Such a clever boy. "Did your father, I mean, did I teach you that?"

"Yes, Daddy. Can you please explain to me what is going on? Mummy?"

"Ok, but first thing's first, let's say you are dreaming and say, we don't know your name. Can you tell us your name?" Clara asked.

The six year old obliged this time. "Malcolm."

"Clara, I think you should just let me use my dad skills and," the Doctor said as he was about to tap Malcolm's forehead. However, she caught his finger just a fraction of an inch before it touched the boy's temple.

"I am not about you to do that to our son."

The Time Lord gave her a look. "He's our son now?"

"Shut it!"

At the sight of the two bickering, Malcolm became distressed. "What's going on – who are you? Why do you look like my parents?"

"Malcolm," Clara began. "That man with the angry eyebrows over there is the Doctor and I'm Clara."

"Yes, I know that. You look the same and have the same name."

"Obviously," the Doctor muttered.

Malcolm glared at the Time Lord. "For someone who looks just like my father, you are nothing like him."

"I'm sorry to disappoint but he is exactly like me. I bet he talks like me, walks like me and calls people pudding-"

"Brain just like you," the six year old finished. "Yes, but my Daddy isn't grumpy all the time."

The Doctor and Malcolm glared at each other before the Time Lord cracked a smile and ruffled the boy's hair.

"This is fascinating, this human child is just like me," the Doctor said to Clara.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"But he has your stubborn attitude."

"Doctor!"

"Anyway, I suppose I owe you an explanation, Malcolm," he said and knelt to the boy's height.

The Doctor began explaining how he and Clara were from another dimension, an alternate universe where he is a Time Lord from Gallifrey or Space Glasgow to make matters simple and that Clara is a school teacher in the early 21st century.

"Do I exist in your world?" the six year old asked. "If alternate versions of my parents exist then so will I, right?"

The Doctor coughed and fiddled with his hands, finding it hard to answer Malcolm's question, unsure about his existence.

"You might, in the future," Clara interjected gently, causing the Time Lord to blush.

The child cracked a smile. He wasn't sure why, but the thought of him still existing in another world with him parents was reassuring. "So what is that big blue box?"

"This, is the TARDIS," the Doctor explained before pulling one door open, allowing the child to see the interior.

Malcolm's brown eyes widened in shock before a grin appeared on his face. "It's… it's…"

"Yes, it's-"

"-dimensionally larger from the inside!"

The Time Lord arched a brow. "That's a first," he muttered before shutting the door. "Ok, I think it's time for you to go back to bed."

Just as the six year old was about to protest, Clara placed a hand on his cheek. "Malcolm, you might catch a cold if you stay out here for too long."

He nodded in agreement but not before hugging her, startling the woman. "It was nice meeting an alternate version of my mother," he murmured.

"It was a pleasure meeting you too, Malcolm," Clara said as she caressed his head before he pulled away.

The Doctor's body stiffened at first when the young boy hugged him but he soon relaxed and smiled. "My Mummy told me Daddy used to dislike physical contact but he got used to it eventually. Maybe you will too."

He cleared his throat. "Maybe. Off you go now."

Malcolm ran back into the house, beaming before he turned around and watched as the Doctor and Clara stepped into the TARDIS.

He stood on the doorstep as the TARDIS began wheezing before it disappeared completely.

The six year old couldn't wait to tell his parents all about his encounter with his alternate universe parents in the morning.

"I will admit that I've seen some very strange things but that was just freaky," Clara said but the Doctor was paying no attention to her as his eyes were glued to the monitor. "Doctor."

He snapped out of his thoughts and glanced in her direction. "You were saying?"

"What just happened?"

He merely shrugged, trying to act casual. "We travelled to an alternate universe where I am not a Time Lord but a human, an actual human and it just so happens that I am married to you and have a son in said universe."

"Yeah, but what Malcolm said, will he exist?"

"He may or may not, Clara- I don't know."

They had been together ever since he had kissed her in the caretaker's shed or snog shed as the students have taken a liking to calling it but the Doctor was new to the experience. He was still trying to grasp all about human relationships.

If he was completely honest with himself, he hopes that Malcolm will indeed exist in their universe, at some point in the future but that would also mean that the Hybrid prophecy will be fulfilled. Half-human, half-Time Lord.

"Doctor," Clara called, noticing he was spacing out.

"Right, so, where to next?" he asked.

She grasped his hand and beamed at him. He returned her smile as he squeezed her hand.

"Anywhere will do."


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor was always used to spending time alone and he couldn't remember the last time he had celebrated Christmas even if his life depended on it. Well, no one could blame him really. He didn't really celebrate it – not ever since he moved to Cambridge. Besides, whenever he was home for Christmas, things were always awkward and tense with his father. To the Doctor, Christmas was something he dreaded.

Before his life was collided with Clara Oswald, John Smith would see Christmas as any other day – there was absolutely nothing special about it and it consisted of him locking away in the study, burying himself in work.

When Clara Oswald came into his life, Christmas suddenly became a holiday he looked forward too – it meant spending time with her and making her happy. Sure, he was awkward as ever, meeting her family again but it turned out alright in the end. It was probably the fifth or sixth time he met them. The fourth time involved a small wedding in spring.

This time, it would be the seventh or eight time. But, there was a difference this year. Christmas wasn't just going to be him spending time with Clara's family. No. This year, there is an addition to the family – wee Malcolm.

And if he was completely honest, Malcolm wasn't only constantly hungry but he was also energetic. The infant would crawl around everywhere as soon as he touched the ground. Anything that piqued his curious brown eyes would cause him to crawl in the direction of said thing and as much as the Doctor and Clara love his curiosity, it could lead to potential trouble.

Just not too long ago, Malcolm tried to climb one of the dining chairs because he wanted to pull the bright blue table cloth laid out innocently on the table. And then there was the incident where he tried crawling up the stairs but luckily, the Doctor scooped up his son in his arms before the infant had the chance to place a hand on the first step.

John didn't realize how stressful and tough it was raising an infant until he had one but at the end of the day, all the woes and complaints faded away when he realized just how much he loves his son.

He would never admit it, but John was actually looking forward to Christmas. He got on well with Dave, Clara's grandmother is still very fond of him and while he shares Clara's dislike for Linda, he had to admit she is tolerable, especially with Malcolm around now.

The infant is 11 months old and everyone has been trying to get him to say their name. For now, all he could say are words best described as unintelligible so the race was on for him to say either 'mama' or 'dada'.

The university was already on holiday break since the third week of December so that meant John was able to spend more time with his family and allow Clara some breathing space to prepare for Christmas.

One thing he couldn't quite fathom is her state of panic whenever the holiday approaches and he was glad that he was able to lessen her burden by taking care of Malcolm.

Eventually, Christmas morning came.

To say that it was cold that morning was an understatement. It was freezing and most likely snowing outside too. Nonetheless, it was Christmas.

"Stop hogging the blanket, daft man," giggled Clara as she attempted to cover herself with the duvet.

The Doctor let out a chuckle before loosening his grip and allowing her to wrap herself warm, leaving him exposed to the cold air. He cracked one eye open. "Who's hogging the duvet now?"

His wife merely smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around her, trying to get as much warmth as he can. Unfortunately, the intimate moment was interrupted when Malcolm decided to steal his mother's attention.

"Yes, Malcolm, Mummy's coming," Clara said as she climbed out of bed before approaching her son's cot. "There, there, you must be hungry since you didn't even wake up last night," she murmured at the still crying infant. Their child had a habit of being cranky whenever he was hungry.

If there was a sight the Doctor would never get tired of or forget, it would that of his wife trying to comfort their wailing son.

By noon, everyone was wide awake and definitely not cranky but Clara was still in a state of panic as she prepared food.

"Clara, there is no need to panic. Your family won't be here for another two hours at least. We'll have plenty of time," the Doctor reasoned as he watched her work her way around the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Yes! I am absolutely sure and didn't I tell you to put on the other shirt? And where's Malcolm?"

"Sleeping," John replied as he craned his neck to confirm that their son is indeed sleeping in the cot placed in the centre of the living room. "And I told you, they won't be here for at least another two hours."

Clara bit her bottom lip and glanced at the oven that was cooking the turkey. "The last thing I want to do is ruin it like I nearly did last year and go change!"

"Yes, boss," her husband said dryly, keeping a straight face.

As soon as he was out of sight, John's lips twitched at the memory of how his heavily pregnant wife was stressing over the turkey. Tears were shed and she was convinced that the turkey would either be overcooked or undercooked and that Linda would secretly make fun of state. The Doctor however, had assured her things would turn out alright. Clara wasn't convinced and threw him out of the kitchen. He didn't take any offence but blamed her irrationality on the mood swings. Eventually, he was called back to the kitchen to take the turkey out of the oven.

Things turned out alright – dinner was a fairly quiet and relaxing affair. Linda did not spew any terrible comments about the turkey or Clara's current state. All in all, it was ok.

John hoped the same for this year.

His hopes were shattered when Linda started criticizing Clara's cooking as soon as dinner began.

Unknown to them, Malcolm had silently woken up and was staring at his parents with his ever inquisitive eyes, listening to every single word Linda was saying.

"You could have left the turkey in the oven a little bit longer – would have been perfect and whatever happened to the table cloth your nan gave you last year?" Linda said in an almost sneering way.

The infant saw his father reach for his mother's hand from underneath the table as a way of comforting her.

"If you must know," the Doctor then interjected, "Malcolm wouldn't stop climbing the chairs and trying to tug the cloth so I stored it away."

If he could, John would have called her a pudding brain but he knew he had to control himself.

"Clara did the same thing when she was an infant – she would grab anything that piqued her curiosity and wouldn't sit still until she got what she wanted," Clara's grandmother said with a smile on her face as the memory played in her mind.

Clara chuckled at the image of her being just as careless as her son.

Things however, took an unexpected twist shortly after dinner. As the whole family, excluding Linda who was seated on the sofa, were cooing over Malcolm, the infant, who was being carried by his grandfather, decided to throw up over his shoulder and causing Linda to be covered in baby vomit.

Everyone had been too shocked and stunned to have said anything but it was clear that Clara was trying her best to prevent herself at laughing and so did her grandmother.

Needless to say, Linda wasn't exactly the happiest person on earth that day but surely enough, some were, especially Clara.

Her family returned to the hotel they were lodging at after Linda quickly cleaned herself.

Christmas this year was certainly interesting, or at least that was what the Doctor thought as he laid in bed that night, caressing his son's head as the baby slept on his chest. If he didn't know any better, Malcolm threw up on Linda on purpose.

"You look like you're miles and miles away," Clara commented as she stepped out of the bathroom.

John snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at his wife. "I'm just wondering if Malcolm did it on purpose."

Clara let out a chuckle before she slipped under the covers. "Nonsense, he's only an infant."

"And takes after his mother it seems," the Doctor added as he slowly lifted his son and held him in his arms before carrying him over to the cot.

"I wonder where he gets his grumpiness from, though," Clara retorted, grinning.

"I am not grumpy," John grunted, returning to bed.

His wife jabbed his chest with a finger. "Says the now grumpy man."

He rolled his eyes and caught her finger before grasping her hand all together and bringing it to his lips. "I think this year's celebration has been quite interesting."

"Absolutely, and," she said reaching for a box from under the bed. "Here is your present."

He gave her a look before unwrapping his present. His wife had bought him a brand new coat – a red velvet one.

"I figured that since you constantly wear the black one that you should have one that makes you look 'doctor-y'," she explained as he kissed her.

"Thank you, this is a beautiful coat and I don't really have yours or Malcom's Christmas present with me."

Clara gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he began, setting aside his present. "I actually booked us all a trip to Brighton and since you kept mentioning it, I thought that would be the perfect prese-"

The Doctor didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as his wife wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"Merry Christmas, Doctor," she murmured once they parted.

"Merry Christmas, Clara Oswald-Smith."

* * *

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! :)


End file.
